At the sound of tapping, Nivea jerked out of a sound sleep and yanked the covers up under her chin.
They had arrived at the small posting house just after dusk. Once again posing as brother and sister, they acquired adjoining rooms. Nivea had managed to stumble through supper before falling asleep on the bed before the maid had even left the room. If it weren’t for the sun streaming through the window, she would have guessed she’d been resting for an hour or so.
Another rap. “Nivea, are you awake?” Dare whispered through the door.
‘Ummm, yes?” she squeaked, terrified he would come in and see her disheveled from sleep.
“I need to speak with you. Please make yourself presentable and join me in the sitting room.”
Apparently, their appalling mode of travel was not having a negative effect on Dare. He was up and ready to go. She listened to his boots stride away before swinging her feet from the bed. She flinched as her throbbing muscles reacted to the sudden movement. Slowly rising, she staggered to the dresser to drag a brush through her hair and throw on the clothes that had been laid out the night before. After a few tugs, her cobalt-striped dress fell into place.
She then flopped on the bed and leaned over to tie her boots. And stopped.
Hmm, that was interesting. She could easily reach her feet without forcing the breath out of her lungs.
She sat up, then bent down again. And giggled.
Standing up, she wiggled. Yes, there was definitely a little more room around her waist. She pulled on a blue Spencer that matched her gown and buttoned it under her breasts. Even that was easier, causing less strain on the buttonhole. How marvelous!
Granted, she still felt like she’d been mauled by a bear, but it appeared all the exercise was doing her some good. Maybe all this horse riding wasn’t so bad.
Oh, good lord. Surely, after twenty-five years of living with the most nutty of all equestrians, she wasn’t going to become a horse fan simply because she dropped a pound or two. No doubt her exhaustion over the past few days had just curtailed her appetite. She’d practically landed facedown into her stew last night, after all.
Whatever the cause, she was grateful for the change. Giving a satisfied glance in the mirror, she danced across the hallway. Dare was seated at the table, set with a hearty breakfast. He stood when she entered, but he did not look directly at her. She plopped down into the chair and stared at him.
He indicated toward the food. “Please, have some of the breakfast cakes. They are quite tasty.”
“No, thank you,” she answered. She knew she was being silly, but couldn’t suppress a flash of irritation that he hadn’t noticed her slight physical change. Crossing her hands in her lap, she stilled. He’d said he needed to speak with her and she had a sneaking suspicion it would not be good news.
Her misgiving grew when he took a bite and smiled at her. “Are you certain? I charmed the servant girl into providing us strawberry jam for the rolls. It will give you strength for today’s ride.”
He was being quite solicitous. Talking to her, smiling, requesting tasty treats. What was he up to?
His eyes skimmed her face and then darted down to his plate. Yes, he was nervous about something.
At last, after clearing his throat, he started. “I received word last night. While I had anticipated that my carriage would catch up with us today, it is not to be. My coachmen sent word that, when the wheel broke, it damaged the entire structure and requires extensive repairs. He has arranged for another carriage, but fears it will not arrive for another day.”
“So, what you are trying to say is…”
“We have to ride again today.” This time, he didn’t drop his gaze. But the muscle in his jaw flexed, betraying a flicker of anxiety. Dare was never anxious. It must be a good sign that he cared about her reaction. Perhaps another day on horseback with him wouldn’t be so bad. And if it helped her slim down a teensy bit more before the wedding…
The wedding! How could she have forgotten? “Do you think…is there a chance we will arrive at Vincent Hall today?”
He nodded. “If we get on the road soon and keep a good pace, yes, I think we can arrive by late afternoon. Then you will have a full day to recover before Caroline’s wedding. Or we can send word to your father and have him send a Horsham carriage, but it is sure to add time to the trip.”
No. She didn’t want to wait. As much as she had been looking forward to being in Dare’s company, she wanted to get home. “I suppose I can ride one more day. Let me break my fast and then we can proceed.”
Picking up a roll, she took a hearty bite. Oh, it was fresh and sweet. Two more bites and it was gone, so she reached for another. The movement shot pain down her arm. She let out a slight groan and Dare winced.
“I am sorry, you know. If my coachman had been more observant, you wouldn’t be in such discomfort.” His expression was so remorseful, she couldn’t let him suffer. True, he could have been a more gracious escort, but their current difficulties were not his fault.
She patted his hand resting on the tabletop. “I accept your apology.”
Their eyes met and she smiled. How could she not, gazing at such a handsome figure. The morning sun shadowed his cheeks, emphasizing the strong planes of his face and deepening his eyes to obsidian. She saw his lip begin to curl in a rakish grin. Then his eyes widened, his features hardened, and he thrust back his chair.
“I will get the horses readied while you finish your meal. Please meet me in the yard when you are done.”
In a blink, he was gone, and she was left with a head of questions and not a single answer.
* * * *
They were on the road within a half hour. Their mounts were lively, and even Nivea could tell they were of higher quality. No doubt living near Horsham land raised the class of horseflesh.
Now that she had been forced to ride for a few days, Nivea admitted it really wasn’t so bad. Certain she would not slip from the horse into an enormous lump in the road, she was able to take delight in the life around her. She smelled the flowers and freshly cut hay. She merrily greeted the wide range of humanity they encountered along the way—farmers off to market, children playing in their fields, and travelers heading for parts unknown. And best of all, she was now able to tie her boots without suffocating.
To celebrate, she began composing a poem in her head. She had no talent for watercolors, but she’d always found poems to be a beautiful way to express her feelings. Not that she followed the normal convention—there were no couplets, no iambic pentameter. Very little structure at all. She preferred stringing words together that bubbled up from inside.
Scanning the horizon for inspiration, she began with an ode to nature.
Birds soar overhead
on a gentle breeze,
looping, swirling, without care.
Gliding through the soft blue sky,
over the lush green leaves
of the forest below.
Through the trees,
flowers burst a show of colors,
enhancing the beauty of the day.
That was certainly not one of her best efforts. Maybe she should consider a new subject. Pondering a moment, she settled on a subject who’d figured prominently in most of her writings.
Who would have thought
I would appear
at Vincent Hall
astride a horse?
Who would have believed